Glass Heart
by ElectroGirlNoir
Summary: Vince Noir- he plays the field, has probably dated most of Camden and swears it'll always be that way. Howard is surprised to discover that Vince was in love once. Why has he kept it secret?
1. Chapter 1

**Glass Heart**

**A/N:**** I don't appear to be able to stop writing stories :D If anyone here has read my It Crowd fic I am in the process of trying to write chapter two :)**

**Disclaimer:**** Inspiration does appear to strike me at very strange times indeed- it's nearly 3:00 AM and I do not own The Mighty Boosh. **

**Warnings: Very, very mild language.**

'Right, I'm gonna have to ask everyone to leave, c'mon, s' five-thirty; closing time!'

Vince watched Howard chase the Camden elite away as if he were rounding up a flock of sheep. The maverick was waving a ruler at them and making shooing noises. It was annoying and ridiculous.

'Yeah, d'you mind?' he said, as Howard gratefully shut the door, 'they weren't even customers, they were me mates!'

'Vince,' Howard said, heading outside to pull down the shutters, 'as I've told you before, this is a shop;' he came back in again, 'anyone who comes in here from nine in the morning 'til five-thirty in the afternoon is classed as a customer and will therefore be asked to leave at closing time,'

'Tha's bullcrap!' Vince scoffed, 'I bet if you 'ad friends you'd let 'em set up camp down 'ere!'

'Hey, don't start mouthing off at me sir!' Howard wagged a finger at him, 'I've got friends, and you know it,'

'Oh yeah,' Vince scowled, 'let me rephrase that, actually: if Lester Corncrake could get 'is body to carry 'is 'ead in the right direction an'-'

'Hey,' Howard interrupted, 'Don't be dissin' Lester, he can get about just fine by himself,'

'That's not what word on the street is...' Vince said, fiddling with the propellers of a little green toy helicopter that had been left on the counter.

'Yeah, well I'm not interested in the word on the street...' Howard replied.

There was a pause, Vince waiting for the inevitable:

'What is word on the street?' Howard asked, giving in to curiosity.

'Word on the street is you're Lester's body wrangler,' Vince replied, eyes glistening mischievously, small sideways smirk tugging down the corner of his mouth, ''e's goin': "no, left! No, right!" an' you're runnin' about with a lasso, like Tom Selleck in a weird Western,'

'Humph.' Howard folded his arms, 'There's always a lot of words on the street, isn't there? The road sweeper might wanna think about giving that street a good once-over, clean it up a bit, stop people treading prose all through their houses,'

'Yeah, but I've seen that road sweeper,' Vince replied, 'little thin bloke; 'e scrubs away at that street like a good'un, gets it all shiny an' clean like a new boot, but by morning it's covered in words again; they get all stuck into the pavement like chewing gum,'

'Anyway,' Howard held out his hand for Vince to hand over the toy helicopter, but Vince, feeling quite attached to it, pocketed it and dropped a couple of euro into the till in response, 'you're just sulking cos I've made all your possible lovers go home and upset your apple cart,'

Vince made a noise of ridicule and tossed his hair, 'My apple cart's fine,'

'No it isn't,' The Northerner replied knowingly, making sure Stationery Village was secure for the night, 'it's upturned in the middle of the street, apples rolling all over the place,'

'My apple cart's standing firm!' Vince told him defiantly, 'An' yeah, you did send 'ome all my possibilities for the night,'

'The _night_?' Howard made a face, 'Vince, don't you ever wanna just settle down now, find a special someone to fall in love with?'

Vince laughed at the idea, 'No!' he said loudly.

'But don't you ever wanna be in love?' Howard said rather passionately, making Vince take a step back as his best mate leaned on the counter, looking like he was about to spout poetry.

'No!' he exclaimed, 'what is your obsession with me an' love?'

'I just don't see why you wouldn't want to be in love, Vince;' Howard said simply, 'You plan on "playing the field" forever, do you?'

'I just don't see the point of being in love if all it does is make you feel like crap. I mean, look how you were with Gideon! Why would anyone wanna go through something that makes their 'art feel like it's made o' glass an' been smashed with a sledgehammer?'

Howard raised an eyebrow at Vince's bitter speech, 'How can you say all that if you've never even been in love?'

Vince's eyes, which had been staring straight into Howard's, giving him severe, aggravated eye contact, suddenly flickered down to stare at the counter.

'Christy, you've been in love, haven't you!' Howard spluttered- it was almost impossible to believe that _The _Vince Noir, Camden's bitch who flitted about constantly like the moth that was currently burning itself to a crisp on the light bulb, the man who swore he would never fall in love- had actually _been_ in love and quite possibly had sleepless nights thinking about them and maybe even hid away and written poetry or gone all dreamy eyed at the very mention of the object of desire's name-

Howard hadn't noticed that Vince had left the shop and was heading up the stairs to the flat.

**A/N 2:**** Yeah, I know, I flit about on the breeze of fanfiction ;D** **Please let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**** Hey! Chapter two, at last! :P Inspiration needs to start knocking at more appropriate times, sir.**

**Disclaimer:**** I do not own the Boosh, my friend!**

**Warnings: Language**

'Right, come in- shut the door,'

Vince laughed at the way Howard was trying to inject some authority into his voice and swaggered into the living room, kicking the door shut behind him with the point of his boot.

'Is there a problem, _sir_?' Noir asked cheekily, putting his hands on his hips exasperatedly, 'Was I runnin' in the corridors again? Did I wear make-up to school?'

'Right,' Howard pointedly ignored him and leaned forward in his seat, steepled his fingers under his chin, 'I'm having an amnesty,'

'Have you told a doctor about this?'

'Do you know what an amnesty is?' Howard sighed.

'It sounds quite painful,'

'Vince, an amnesty is... an amnesty...' Howard frowned, 'er... Look, what I'm trying to say is that if you tell me who you were in love with now, I won't make you sit in the hot seat and fry your brains for the details later,'

'Are you serious!' Vince's hands remained on his hips, 'are you still goin' on about that business? I told you already, over toast an' 'ot beverages this mornin': you've gone wrong, there ain't no mystery lover who I've allegedly supposed to 'ave fallen 'ead over 'eels for!'

'Ah,' Howard smiled, 'the lady doth protest too much...'

'Aw, fucksake Howard...'

'Whoa there! Uncalled for, Little Man...'

'No,' Vince snapped, 'it was called for, cos you're seriously gettin' on my nerves!'

Howard looked at Vince closely; _was that... tears? His eyes were shining with tears? _

Naboo appeared in the doorway.

'Er, since when did servin' customers become a one-man show? Get in the shop!'

Vince seemed glad of the distraction and beamed a mega-watt smile, 'what, the organ grinder an' 'is monkey not up to the job?' he asked playfully.

Naboo gave the smallest of smiles and raised an eyebrow, 'Stop with the one-liners an' get behind the counter will ya,'

Later, when they were heading up into the flat for dinner, Howard hadn't changed the channel, so to speak:

So, come on, who were they?' He demanded, lumbering up the stairs after him, 'What was their name? Was it a woman, or...'

'Look,' Vince spun on his heel to face the over-excited Northerner, 'you can relax the animation, cos I dunno what you're on about! It's startin' to freak me out a little bit actually...'

'Hey, don't try that one on me, sir, I ain't havin' a re-enactment of the "Juicy Dangler". I always find out the truth in the end, and you know I'm onto something deep. They call me The Sleuther,'

'They call you The Loofer,' Vince scoffed, rolling over onto his stomach on the sofa and reaching for one his magazines, 'Now, are you makin' sommink to eat or what, cos I am well 'ungry!'

'Right, out the way, ballbags!'

Naboo's voice suddenly echoed in the corridor, and seconds later he opened the door to the flat, keeping it open for Bollo, who came in carrying a large midnight coloured potion bottle, the glass too strangely tinted to tell if there was anything inside or not.

'Uh, Naboo, where I put it down?'

'Jus' stick it in the bedroom for now,'

Vince was off the sofa in seconds, hovering around the shiny potion bottle like a strange insect, 'Wow, genius! What is it?'

'It's dark Juju, that's what,' Naboo said firmly, 'I mean it Vince; you're not to go near it. And Howard, I shouldn't even 'ave to tell ya; don't let me down an' do wrong in y'self,'

'Not to worry, Naboo, Howard Moon's got far more pressing matters to deal with,'

'What, like why you're speaking in the third person?'

'No, like- don't worry about it,'

'I weren't,'

Howard frowned.

Vince sighed, jumped back onto the sofa and smooshed his face into a cushion; Howard wasn't going to drop it, was he? It was ridiculous; he was like a bloody schoolgirl.

'So,' Howard circled the sofa, grinning like a wolf, 'You gonna tell me, Little Man, so I can rustle up some dinner?'

'I'd rather starve than tell you somethin' I know nothin' about,' Vince replied tartly, 'I'm like Rambo; I can survive on bootlaces,'

'How is that anything like Rambo, sir?'

'Survival an' all that,' Vince shrugged.

'You've told me about all your other affairs, Vince…'

'Oh for fuck sake!' Vince stood abruptly, alarming Howard slightly, 'There. Is. No. One. That. I. Used. To. Fucking. Love. Howard.'

His eyes were sparkling, and his eyelashes looked wet. Howard felt slightly guilty. 'Er… how about a quiche?'

'Sounds stellar,'

Howard was too busy bumbling around the kitchen to hear Vince run to the bathroom and splash cold water over his face. Vince yanked some loo roll of the holder and dabbed his eyes. He'd have to redo his make-up now. _Why couldn't the man just fucking leave it?_


End file.
